


A Lion Still Has Claws

by 5lbsofsmarties



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, ScrewAttack RPF
Genre: F/M, Game of Thrones AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5lbsofsmarties/pseuds/5lbsofsmarties
Summary: Sometimes a princess needs to experience more than what is expected of her, and sometimes she has to do what is right.





	1. One

There was a deep seeded throbbing in your shoulder and your ears were ringing loudly as the sounds of the raucous crowd mingled with lance blow you had just taken seemed to echo within the steel helm wrapped around your head. Your eyes narrowed across the grounds at your opponent and you knew that you couldn’t be laid out; you refused to lose and not just because of your deep competitive nature, but because if you lost then your secret would no doubt be reveled to everyone who had gathered to witness the last day of the Tourney.

From where you sat atop your horse, you could see your father sitting in the stands looking rather bored. You couldn’t help but wonder what he would say if he knew that it was his own daughter jousting not twenty feet in front of him. In reality, you were sure he would only be angry that you had lied to get there – and that you had been hurt. Your mother on the other hand, you were positive that she would lose her mind if she found out.

Since you were a small child, all you wanted to do was learn to wield a sword like your father and brother, to ride a horse with the same ferocity, to shoot a bow with deadly accuracy, and more importantly, have your ideas taken with as much consideration. But, you mother was determined to have her only daughter be the perfect lady that the realm expected her to be. You were taught needlepoint in place of swordplay, and songs in the stead of politics. It angered you that you were treated like a child despite being nearly a woman grown.

You had to shake those thoughts from your mind as you refocused on the task at hand; all you had to do was unhorse the rider opposite you to be named the winner of the joust at the Prince’s Name Day Tourney. 

The flags dropped and you spurred your mare on, cradling your lance in your hand and squaring your shoulders as you approached the knight rapidly. The sound of your lance breaking met your ears before you ever saw what happened, but with a glance of your shoulder you saw the knight in gleaming emerald plate fall and land harshly on the flat of his back – his golden cloak catching the air and all but swaddling his body as he made impact. A wave of shouts and cheers erupted from all around you and you could not contain the gleeful laugh that fell from your throat, the sound ricocheted around inside your helm but for once the powerful sounds didn’t hurt your ears.

When it came time to collect the champion’s purse, you were full of nerves being that close to the king and standing in front of all of the high born Lords and Ladies. You were sure that someone was going to peer into your helm and catch a glimpse of your face to put an end to your whole charade. However, you were able to grab hold of your prize and bow your way out of the situation before all but running back to your tent that you had set up in.

Just as your hand gripped at the flap of fabric at the entrance, you heard a voice shout out from behind you.

“Mystery knight!”

You froze and quickly pivoted to see the knight that you had knocked off of his horse was all but rushing towards you across the grounds and you found yourself longing for your tower and your room with a real door, not a wisp of fabric that does nothing to keep out unwanted people. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he would leave you be if you drew your sword and told him that his presence was not wanted in these parts.

But you knew that tempers at the Tourney’s often ran high the last thing you wanted was to be involved in some sort of skirmish after just winning the champion’s purse. Your eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area, trying desperately to find an escape route. Thankfully, a rather bawdy group of squires, pages, and lesser known knights still in their plate were in the process of cutting through the area on their way to the final round of the melee; you slipped in beside them and all but disappeared into the throngs of people, effectively leaving the knight from Highgarden behind.

That night you were expected to attend the feast for the closing of the Tourney as well as the final celebration for the Prince’s Name Day, but that was easier said than done. You’d managed to get out of your borrowed armor and into a respectable gown that your mother had spent weeks with the best seamstresses in the city to make sure that you were aptly dressed for event. However, you had not taken into account that your ever loyal gaggle of handmaidens would be helping you dress and you did not immediately notice that one had slipped off out of the room when you were sliding the dress on.

All things considered, it was a beautiful gown. It was made entirely of a lovely white crushed velvet and had truly impeccable golden lace detailing all over the bodice and skirt. The sleeves were fitted perfectly from shoulder to elbow and then gracefully draped off of your arms in wide-cut cuffs decorated with more lace trim. A matching scarf of golden crushed velvet was secured over your shoulders with a ornamental lion pin.

As one of the younger of your handmaidens laced up the back of your gown, the door to your bedchamber clanged open loudly, very nearly coming off of its hinges at the force. Both your mother and your father were rushing into the room with two very different expressions etched into their features. While your father looked down right furious and nearly ready to declare war, your mother had a look of terror running deep within the lines of her face.

“What happened to you, Y/N?” 

Your mother grabbed hold of both of your hands in her own and looked into your face with wide, pleading eyes. You could not help but stare back at her with confusion seeping into your own countenance. “Your handmaiden ran to us and said you were covered from neck to navel in bruises and welts. Who hurt you? Who did this?” your father demanded from a few feet back. Your father had the ability to be a very intimidating man when it came to matters of politics and wartime, but it was a side of him that you had rarely seen as a child.

Gently, you attempted to extricate your hands from your mother’s hold and shook your head from side to side. “It’s nothing, really, I am alright,” you attempted to assuage both of their worry, “You both know how clumsy and unsure my feet can be.” Your words appeared to do nothing but anger your father further. He knew quite well how capable you were; he tried on several occasions in your girlhood to take you along with your brothers’ lessons and teach you the ways of the sword or bow before your mother intervened. 

“Do not lie to me, Y/N. I am not a man to take being lied to kindly even by my own daughter. Now, what happened to you?”

Nervously, you looked around the room full of people and tried to wrack your mind for some sort of explanation that was not entirely the truth so that you could avoid telling the two of them of your exploits at the Tourney. Your handmaidens, however, were not on the same page as you it appeared as one of them stepped forward with a slightly lowered head and eyes on the ground at your parents’ feet. You widened your eyes in order to cast a pleading glance in her direction; she had been the only one to know what you had done, besides one of your brothers, and had she agreed to keep it to herself if you managed to come through unscathed.

“Forgive me, my Lady,” she murmured softly before lifting her gaze to meet your father’s eyes, “Y/N… she entered the Tourney as a mystery knight. She took quite a few blows in the joust and those are where all of those nasty bruises came from,” she explained before quickly dropping her eyes back down to the floor.

The sound of your mother’s shocked gasp met your ears before you ever saw her reach out and take your hands in her own once more. She looked you over with fearful and concerned eyes but you knew that you had managed to cover all of the evidence; or so you thought, until you looked down and saw the scrapes and contusions forming under the skin of your hands. Your mother followed your gaze and she let out a truly awful sounding shriek as she pulled you closer by the hands.

“Gods be good… what did you do to yourself, Y/N? Look at the state of your delicate hands! You are due at the feast soon and you were meant to meet with some of the Lords and their sons who have asked your father for your hands and-“

Your mother continued to rant and rave but you tuned out at the mention of meeting men. You had tried on several occasions to explain to her that you were not interested in marrying a Lordling and squeezing out baby after baby for him to continue his line, or even continue your own – at least not at this point in your life. You wanted adventure, and excitement, not whatever it was that your mother had planned for you.

“Y/N,” your father said sharply, gaining your attention, “Your brother Gavin is waiting in the solar. He was to take you to the feast but tell him to take you to the maester and get your hands looked at. When that is done the two of you are to join us at our table and tonight when the meal is complete we will discuss what happened today.”

The tone in which he spoke gave you no room for argument, you simply lowered your eyes and nodded, “Yes, father.”

Without another word, you hurried out of your room and down the stairs leading into the solar. Sure enough, your brother was sprawled out over a chaise lounge as he sipped at the golden goblet in his hand. He had on a golden doublet, embroidered with beautiful red stitching, underneath an understated red leather jerkin, the buttons of which were red fire opals – the candle light in the solar seemed to dance off of them.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed at seeing you enter the room. He got to his feet and finished off his wine, setting it haphazardly onto a nearby table, and held his arms out to you with a ridiculous smile on his face. “You did brilliantly, little sister. Really tremendous stuff out there… you won me quite a bit of coin today as well as yourself,” he laughed and walked over to you so that he could wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you flush against his side.

“Gav… mother and father found out,” you murmured, keeping your eyes locked on the stonework at your feet.

Gavin groaned and pulled away, “How did that happen? We were so careful!”

“Not careful enough,” you said, lifting your hands to show the damage you had taken, “Father said you’re to take me to see Maester Gus before we go to the feast.”

It seemed as though Gavin bit his tongue to keep his words to himself but he quickly headed towards the door, motioning for you to fall in step with him. You had to admit that after spending the majority of the day in plate armor, walking in a silken down felt amazingly freeing, but you decided to keep that though to yourself as you tried to keep pace with your brother.

“Where is Ryan?” you asked as the two of you crossed the yard.

Gavin shrugged and sighed, “He is off with some knights or lords or something from the North that he met at the Tourney.”

“You weren’t invited?” you teased with a smirk.

“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you, Y/N. Not everyone would be so kind as to help their little sister join in a Tourney when the whole realm would implode if they knew,” he shot back, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You lifted your hands in front of you in mock surrender, but chuckled softly under your breath. Gavin had always been one to follow along behind your eldest brother Ryan in some sort of attempt to gain is respect and admiration, but it was obvious to most that while Ryan did love his younger brother, he definitely still viewed him as a silly little boy. You would have felt bad for Gavin if he had not turned around and attempted to mirror Ryan’s treatment of himself upon you when you were all growing up at your home in the west.

After watching Gavin’s face for a moment, you decided to drop it, not wanting to spoil his night. You allowed yourself a chance to scan the keep around you as you walked alongside your brother, to watch the people for once; it seemed as though everyone was constantly watching you. As you got closer to your destination, you spotted an unfamiliar man in all black walking with a few of the City Watch towards the steps to the cells under the keep.

“Gavin… look… it’s a brother of the Night’s Watch,” you whispered, twisting your head around to watch the man.

He looked a little haggard with wild brown hair and a scraggily beard adorning his face, but you assumed it must have been a rough ride from the Wall all the way down to King’s Landing. Gavin huffed softly and rolled his eyes at your comment before he reached out to grab hold of your elbow. “They come all the time to look for recruits in the dungeons, ignore him, Y/N. We need to hurry,” he muttered, pulling you along.

Finally the pair of you reached the maester’s tower and Gavin was kind enough to push open and hold the door for you to enter. “Hurry along, Y/N… we need to get to the feast and I need to find that maid from across the Narrow Sea before mother and father make us sit with them,” Gavin instructed, motioning you into the tower.

You cast one look over your shoulder and sighed softly before turning on a heel to head further into the tower. As you ascending the stairs, you couldn’t help but think of what your mother had said. Who were these men she was so desperate for you to meet? What good would come of these meetings? Honestly you weren’t sure if at this point your parents would listen to you in the matter of a marriage match, or if they would choose for you. After today and seeing the look on their faces when they heard the truth of your days long escapades in the Tourney, you weren’t entirely sure they’d trust you to make any of your own decisions ever again.

With a heavy sigh, you raised a hand and knocked loudly at the door at the top of the stairs.

“Maester? It’s Y/N… my father sent me to see you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The courses of the feast had flown in a strange blur of platters of far too much food and innumerable goblets of what felt like not nearly enough spiced wine. The singers were cycling in and out at a staggering rate; it seemed that the crowd had become a bit too rambunctious and their old, tired tales were boring the snot out of all those gathered in the yard. Men and women alike were partaking in the flagons of wine and ale with what seemed to be a true sense of reckless abandonment. One could almost assume that they had completely forgotten that all of this was not simply a night to drink, fight, and fuck, but was meant as a celebration for the Prince’s Name Day.

In the midst of everything going on in the Tourney grounds – the revelry, the singers, and the jugglers – it seemed as though your parents had all but forgotten that you were there at their table; which was all well and good for you as you managed to slip away and out of their sight.

Your hands grasped as tightly as they could to the cup of wine that you had walked off with. The bandages that the maester had wrapped around your fingers and knuckles after applying a salve to your injuries had made your movements clumsy and joints tight, so you held onto the wine as if your life depended on it – and at this point it felt as though that were true. The crowd seemed to part slightly as you walked through, making a slight annoyance bubble up from inside your chest. You had grown up with the eyes of the realm on your every move and sometimes you simply wished that it were possible to disappear if not for just a few moments. It most certainly did not help that you knew that drink you had consumed had tinged your cheeks a color not dissimilar to the wine you’d been drinking all night, leaving you feeling very warm.

A quick glance over your shoulder allowed you to spot the head of the guard that your father had assigned to protect you not far behind; he was not the most discreet of knights so he was easily spotted. You let out a soft sigh and raised your cup to your lips to allow the remaining hot spiced wine inside to be drained. You handed the goblet off to a passing server before slipping by a rather rowdy group men from the North; as you rounded the assemblage of men a familiar voice caught your attention. You turned your head to look just to your right and smiled to yourself at the sight of your eldest brother laughing loudly with a crowd of people around him, looking just as happy as him.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked as you approached, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ryan looked down at you and laughed heartily, “Y/N! Dear sister, you managed to escape the watchful eyes of both our parents and your guard? I’m impressed. Is there anything you can’t do?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly to the side and narrowed your eyes at your brother, not feeling at all up for dealing with whatever mood he was currently in. From your right you heard someone clear their throat and you very slowly tore your gaze away from your brother and his stupid smug smirk – he just knew when he was edging on your last nerve. When you finally looked at the person who was attempting to gain your attention, the stoic look about your features broke instantly and a wide smile quickly filled your face.

“Lord Chad James,” you greeted happily, and loudly, “I wasn’t aware that you had made the long trek all the way down from the Eyrie.”

The man in front of you flashed you a truly charming grin as he reached up to gently push some of his hair back out of his face. It had to have been over a year since the last time that you had seen him, the last time being at a tourney in the Riverlands – near Raventree Hall – that Gavin was adamant about going to and you had found yourself quite bored to death in The Red Keep so you all but demanded that he take you along. Chad had done well in the melee and the joust but you mostly remembered the three of you having far too much mead and wine while keeping most of the other guests wide awake with your boisterous laughter. Then, Chad had been a newly made Lord and he wasn’t very sure of how to go about earning that role in his peoples’ eyes; but now, looking at him, you could tell he had grown more comfortable and confident in his lordship at the Eyrie – and you were very happy for your friend.

Chad extended a hand to slip into one of your own and lifted it towards himself. You knew he meant to kiss your hand and you wanted to laugh and shove him off, to tell him that all that formality was for naught. You were friends first and foremost, but you knew that it was no use in doing so. Chad was nothing if not chivalrous and honorable.

“Your-“ he began, lips barely at your knuckle, but he stopped short, “What in Seven hells happened to your hands?”

Both Chad and Ryan looked at the state of your hands and you could feel other inquiring eyes looking your way as well. You bit down onto your lower lip and pulled your hand away from the hold that Chad had upon it to fold both of yours together and hold them closer to your body. “You know I’ve never been particularly skilled at needlework, Chad,” you attempted to laugh off his concern. The last thing you wanted was to discuss your little jaunt in the joust; you especially did not want to have to tell Chad that you had, in fact, beaten him the previous day.

“Thank the Gods your house colors are red then, Y/N,” Chad laughed loudly.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes just a touch before he stepped forward to press a light kiss against your wine warmed cheek. “If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I need to see a man about a horse,” he smirked and winked at you, which made your cheeks flush even a slightly darker red than they were. He turned and shook your brother’s hand, clasping him on the back in a friendly hug. “Do try to enjoy the night, dear friend, times like this only come but once a year,” he said sagely before turning and disappearing into the crowd of people.

When you could no longer see Chad’s retreating form, you turned back to your brother who was looking down at you with hard eyes. “You said you would take great care of yourself,” he chided, trying to keep his voice low to avoid unwanted ears overhearing, “I cannot believe I allowed Gavin to talk me into helping to get you into a suitable bit of armor; Fat lot it did.” You pursed your lips and gently flexed your hands where you held them tight to your abdomen in an attempt to loosen the bandages and ease the dull ache and throb that had set in on your joints. You knew that he meant well but all you really wanted to do was give Ryan one good, hard wallop up against the side of his head – the reaction of his guard be damned.

However, before you even think through doing so two of your own guard came up to stand on either side of you and your brother. “Pardon, we’ve been instructed to escort you back to your chambers,” one of them said. You turned your head and blinked slowly back at him with a confused look upon your face. “I thought I was to meet with my parents after the feast,” you said, looking between both members of your guard as well as Ryan.

“Not tonight. Your counsel has been rescheduled for the morning.”

You decided that it was best not to argue lest a scene be caused in the middle of the feast. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded your head and turned to begin following behind the knights to make your way back towards the Red Keep.

Once back in the keep and up in your bedchamber, your handmaidens quickly entered the room to help you undress. With swift, skilled hands the girls worked quickly to get you out of your gown and into your small clothes. With a small bit of thanks, you dismissed the lot of them and crawled into your featherbed, drawing the curtains closed to close yourself off from the rest of the room – whenever one of your handmaidens or even family came into the room it often roused you from your sleep and you liked to sleep as long as possible.

You laid on your back and stared up into the darkness as your thoughts began to race around inside your head; you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen come morning. Would your parents send you away? Maybe to the Sept to become a Septa, keep you out of trouble. You shook your head and took a deep breath in an attempt to stop yourself from getting worked up over things that you had absolutely no control over. Come morning, you would break you fast and hurry off to meet with your parents – whatever came of that meeting you would take with all the grace and elegance that your mother forcibly thrust upon you in your early years. Eventually, you burrowed down in the covers in an attempt to force yourself to drift off to sleep.

At some point, you must have eventually fallen sleep as the next thing that you knew one of your handmaidens was gently stirring you awake. “Good morning,” a soft, slightly accented voice called, “Your food is here as well as the maester to dress your wounds.” Slowly, you turned and blinked up at the young woman standing above your bed; the sight of brightly colored blue hair was a welcomed one. You slowly pushed yourself up to sit straight and smiled ever so slightly at the woman in your chamber. “Good morning, Meg… find me something to wear, please? I’m to meet with my parents as soon as I’m ready this morning,” you explained as you slipped out of the bed.

The Tyroshi handmaiden nodded her head and made her way towards you closet of clothes while you stood and stretched; your body ached awfully bad after having rested for so long. Your left shoulder felt stiff and sore while the bruises and welts throbbed with each move that you made. “Did you enjoy your night, Meg?” you asked as she brought over a dress for you to wear. You could see a cloying smile spread across the lips and the barest hint of a blush filled her cheeks. “It was… a fine time,” she answered in a soft voice, glancing away from your eyes.

Watching her carefully, you could definitely see why your brother was so interested in the maid from across the Narrow Sea; she was definitely beautiful but after spending so much time with her, you found her to be a truly lovely person to be around – you had not found someone in King’s Landing that made you laugh quite as much as her. You fondly shook your head and decided against pushing any further, you would allow both her and your brother to enjoy their moments together without spoiling it with the fact that you knew what was going on.

Meg helped you into your dress and you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a small whine of discomfort as the tightening of the laces pressed against your sore ribs. The dress was a beautiful emerald green, soft to the touch with cotton velveteen that swept the floor, with long flowing sleeves and a golden brocade bodice starting at the empire line under your bust. Meg made quick work of your hair, pulling it up into a delicate woven gold hairnet. When she was done you stood and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you very much. I’m going to go down to solar and break my fast before heading across the Keep, why don’t you go have some fun,” you suggested with a knowing smile.

You headed down the stairs into the solar and saw that the maester was waiting for you at the table, salves and bandages spread out in front of him. When he heard you coming, he made a move to stand but you shook your head and raised a hand to discourage him from doing so. “Please, maester, you’ve known me since I was a child… the pomp and circumstance is unnecessary, especially before I’ve broken my fast,” you said with a small laugh as you pulled out your chair and slipped into it. Maester Gus shook his head with a fond sort of smile and sat himself back down.

“Well, child, let me clean and bandage your hands so you can start your day,” he suggested.  
Nodding, you held out both of your hands and watched with careful eyes as he unwound the old bandages. Your nose crinkled slightly when you caught sight of your hands underneath; what you had thought were just a few bruises and scrapes turned out to actually be a few deeper cuts and an array of disgusting looking contusions. The maester gave the cuts a passing smell before turning to grab the bowl of water and gently washed the old salve and dried blood from your skin. He worked quickly, muttering mostly to himself in the process, and before you knew it he was wrapping your fingers and knuckles back up in a clean set of bandages.

“Thank you very much, maester,” you murmured, flexing your fingers with a sad smile.  
He nodded and got to his feet, “You are most welcome… if the pain is bad send for me and I’ll get you something.”

You thanked him again and one of your guards saw the man out of the solar. You shook your head and turned back to the table, more than ready to break your fast. You ate quickly in a way that would most definitely disgust your mother if she were to see you now, but you were hungry and your stomach swayed slightly after all of the wine you had partook in the previous night.  
Before long, you found yourself being escorted out of the solar and tower by a member of your guard. You sighed and glanced over at the man; he was a near giant of a human with an imposing, bushy beard on his face. “Ser Adam,” you nearly whispered, your fingers absently toying with one another. The knight turned and looked down at you with curious eyes but a friendly smile hidden within his beard. You bit down onto your lower lip and sighed softly, “Is there any way that I could persuade you to take me somewhere else?”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head, “I’m sorry but I’m on strict orders to bring you to the throne room.”

Once the two of you had arrived just outside the throne room, the large intimidating doors firmly shut; you could feel your tummy flutter with nerves. You shifted uncomfortably as you watched Ser Adam walk over and speak to the White Cloak standing at the doors; a moment later Ser Adam returned and gave you a small, comforting smile.

“The King will see you now.”

You nodded your head and extended your thanks before walking towards the doors, the King’s Guard knight opening it for you as you approached. Inside, the room was mostly empty which just made the sounds of your steps against the polished floor echo louder in your ears. You drew closer to the Iron Throne and absently worried your lower lip between your teeth.

“Stop that,” you heard your mother’s voice say.

With a sigh, you released your lip and stopped at the bottom of the throne, glancing to the right of the throne to see your mother perched in her seat. Next to her, were both of your brothers, both of whom looked entirely displeased to be called to the Throne Room so early in the morning. Up upon the Throne itself was your father. It was always kind of jarring to see him sitting so high on such a towering and ominous seat.

“What am I going to do with you, Y/N?” you father asked with a sigh, “How could you have been so foolish as to enter a tourney like that? I’ve seen your hands, I can’t imagine what the rest of you must look like. I have already spoken to your brothers about what happened as well as their involvement, but I want to hear it from you.”

You lowered your gaze and let out a low sigh, “I… I wanted to prove that I could; I wanted to see that I was capable of more than needlework and marrying some little Lordling to secure allies and make babies.”

Your mother let out a very disgruntled noise and you lifted your eyes to look in her direction, her face contorting into something not dissimilar to rage.

“You, Y/N, are Princess to the Seven Kingdoms and currently third in line to the Iron Throne. What would have happened if you were injured, or worse, in that ridiculous death sport? There is a reason why even your brothers do not compete. You have responsibilities not just to us but the realm – responsibilities that include marrying whomever your Kingly Father chooses for you. Who is going to want to marry a Princess covered in scars because she wanted to pretend to be a knight?”

A bit of silence settled between everyone in the room and your heart was hammering harshly against your ribcage while your face quickly filled with heat. You slowly tore your eyes away from your mother when you heard your father clear his throat; you looked back up at him and, at least, he did not look nearly as angry as your mother, but he certainly looked very disappointed in the events that had unfolded since yesterday.

“I am sorry that you felt so unfulfilled that you had to put yourself in such danger,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward in the throne, “However, your mother is correct. Part of this whole event, besides celebrating Ryan’s Name Day, was to bring the Lords and Knights from around the Kingdoms to the Red Keep and allow you a chance to meet them.”

You wanted to argue but you could see on both of your parents’ faces that that would not end well if you did. Your father clasped both of his hands together in his lap and exhaled slowly as he watched you with careful eyes. “Both of your brothers are ready to accept their roles in this family, you must be prepared as well. This afternoon you will begin meeting with a few of these men. I am not so heartless to force you to marry someone you do not know, Y/N. I want you to be content in your match; so, please, be open minded these next few days,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you as if daring you to try and say something.

“Yes, father,” you nearly whispered, “I am truly sorry for any embarrassment my poor decision has brought you.”

The King glanced around for a moment, as if double checking that it was just the five of you in the room, “How did you end up doing?”

Your mother looked ready to fly up the Throne and strangle your father while Gavin and Ryan ducked their heads to try to hide their knowing grins. You pressed your lips together and took a deep breath, trying to suppress your own smile. You bowed deeply and looked up at your father from underneath the flare of your eyelashes.

“You are looking at your jousting champion, Your Grace.”

It sounded as if there was a laugh threatening to escape your father but he cleared his throat and slapped a hand to his chest to stop himself, not wanting to incur your mother’s wrath. He had what looked to be an almost glimmer of pride in his eyes as he looked down at you, but he merely shook his head and gave you a warm smile. “You’re excused, Y/N… I will see you later,” he said, dismissing you from the throne room.

“Thank you, father,” you dipped into a slight curtsey before heading back out the way you came.


End file.
